


I Guess I Like You Like You

by lazarusthefirst



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Brief Hospitalisation, Cute, Fluff, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Illness, M/M, Sneaking Around, making up Trojans as I go along
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 13:04:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8752663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazarusthefirst/pseuds/lazarusthefirst
Summary: ‘Even if it’s just sleeping, I’d rather do it in your room.’





	

**Author's Note:**

> a combination of two silly little fics I wrote ages ago and discovered I had linked in my brain but not on the page?? anyways yes I'm still writing these two and am in hell <3

Two days before their crucial away game in Washington, Jean found himself unable and unwilling to care about Exy. This was partly because he’d never cared about Exy in the first place. But more importantly it was because Jeremy had, in response to Jean’s repeated staring and unsubtle flirting, finally started flirting back with intent. There'd even been some kissing. It was a whole new world.

‘Who you rooming with tonight?’ he asked. They were milling around the bus as it was loaded with their gear, and because the Trojans were a focused and determined bunch of try-hards, Jean was able to get a little private moment with Jeremy on the other side of the bus to everyone else before the madness commenced.

‘Connor,’ replied Jeremy, leaning against the bus and rolling his shoulders. Then he caught Jean’s meaning. ‘Who’re you with?’

Jean smirked. ‘Scott. Think we can get him to switch?’

Jeremy flushed, pleased. ‘Oh, you wanna room with me?’ he asked innocently. ‘Well, ok I guess. I mean, I’m gonna be pretty tired after the game, I’ll probably just crash - but, I mean, if you want, go ahead.’

Jean pinched Jeremy’s waist, making him yelp and wriggle away. ‘Ask Connor,’ he said, snaking his arms around Jeremy’s body and pulling him close, and Jeremy snuggled in like he hadn’t been trying to get away at all. ‘Even if it’s just sleeping, I’d rather do it in your room.’

They found Connor just before they were due to board the bus.

‘Connor,’ Jeremy said brightly, smiling at him. ‘How are things, how you feeling?’

‘Good,’ said Connor breezily, checking the strings of his racquet. ‘Feeling pretty confident, you?’

‘Yeah, good,’ Jeremy said. ‘Should be a good game. Hopefully we can - ’

‘Connor, switch rooms with me,’ Jean interrupted. 

They both looked at him, Jeremy making a face behind Connor’s back. ‘Uhhh … why? Wait, who have you got?’

‘Scott,’ Jean said. ‘He’s scared of me.’

Connor grinned. ‘Yeah, he is,’ he said. ‘But why me?’

‘Because I’m already used to Jeremy’s annoying sleeping habits,’ Jean said, winking at Jeremy as Connor turned to look at him. 

‘Please?’ asked Jeremy. He was wearing his sweetest smile; of course Connor said yes - yeah, sure, no problem. The good thing about already being weird, Jean thought, was that people tended not to question you too much. 

They won their game by a huge margin, but the Washington Tigers were a physical bunch of bastards. Their best striker was injured and their others couldn’t score for shit, so they put all their energy into bodychecking the Trojans into the ground all night long. Jeremy limped off on the hour mark and Jean missed the entire middle of the game nursing a dead arm, Coach only bringing him back on for the last quarter because the Tigers looked like scoring. Jean soon sorted that out. 

‘How’s your arm?’ Jeremy asked him as they dressed.

‘Better,’ Jean said, rolling his shoulder. ‘How do you feel?’

Jeremy groaned. ‘Like I got steamrolled,’ he admitted. They looked at each other guiltily. 

‘Come over anyways,’ Jeremy said, feeling brave. ‘I mean, if you want. Even if we don’t …’

Jean nodded, warmth blooming in his chest. ‘Ok,’ he said. ‘I will.’

Telling Scott he was switching with Connor was almost a pleasant experience; the kid looked so relieved, and then mortified that he was so obvious about it, that Jean actually laughed. 

‘Relax,’ he said dryly. It didn’t affect him, Scott’s thorough dislike of him. Not when Jeremy had already made it clear that he liked Jean best. It was juvenile, but it got him through most days. 

He knocked on Jeremy’s door after they’d all eaten and then taken power naps. Some of the Trojans were still wandering the halls of the hotel, forbidden to party because of their exams coming up - some of them were even studying while they stretched out. 

‘Let me get my bag,’ Connor said. Jean didn’t take his eyes off Jeremy, who was pretending to read notes on his bed, the whole time Connor gathered his possessions together. 

‘You hungry?’ Jeremy asked, when the door had closed behind Connor. ‘We could get room service.’

Jean didn’t reply, dropping his bag on the ground at the end of the second bed. They were fairly roomy, he noticed, pleased.

‘No?’ Jeremy said, abandoning his notes and standing up. ‘How about a movie, then?’

Jean still said nothing, enjoying the way Jeremy’s neck was beginning to flush as he continued to avoid looking at him.

‘You’re probably tired,’ Jeremy said, like he was agreeing with Jean. ‘I am too. Maybe we should just - ’

He hadn’t noticed Jean advancing on him. Suddenly he was right there in his space, fingers on the hem of his shirt. He ducked his head and kissed Jeremy long and slow, breaking away when Jeremy started to lean in to him.

‘Or we could - do that,’ said Jeremy, a little out of breath. ‘Yeah.’ He was smiling, all shy suddenly, and Jean flushed with pleasure. 

Perhaps it was a lack of exposure to anyone approaching Jeremy’s sweet nature and bashful disposition, but Jean was especially attuned to it. Whenever Jean said something that made Jeremy blush, when he looked down at his shoes with a little smile on his face and his ‘aw, shucks’ voice, it just hit Jean right in the chest. 

Slowly, he lifted Jeremy’s t-shirt up until it was off and over his head, and tossed it away. He bent his head to kiss Jeremy’s neck, then his smooth shoulders, hands coming up to hold his waist, and Jeremy made a little noise of pleasure. He let Jean back him into the wall, his own hands coming up to unbutton Jean’s shirt slowly. He thumbed over Jean’s nipples, reminding Jean that shy or not, he knew his way around. Jean shivered and kissed him again, pressing him back agains the wall with his body. 

It was so nice to just kiss Jeremy with no pressure. The door was locked - no one was going to come barging in, there was no class to get to or practise to go to. They even had a lie-in tomorrow morning - Coach didn’t need them on the bus until 10am. They hadn’t really discussed sex or anything of that nature apart from being blatantly aroused in each others presence, but Jeremy was clearly up for a little something. His body was warm against Jean’s, and willing - he could feel him pushing eagerly against him, his hands slipping over his chest and down his arms, gripping his shoulders before sliding into his hair. 

Jean now finally understood the phrase “fooling around”. They kissed and touched each other and slipped their hands down their pants and touched each other until their legs were trembling and they had to find the bed. Jeremy stripped for him, pulling off the rest of his clothes slowly with a little smile, before climbing on to Jean’s lap and sitting so nicely, Jean’s cock hard and restrained in his underwear, just below Jeremy’s ass. 

And again, more kissing. It was just so nice, Jean thought in a daze, to kiss and touch and be touched. He was hard and yeah he wanted to get off, but he wanted this to last forever too. His lips were numb, and he felt so _known_. Jeremy’s hands had been everywhere, all over his body, exploring so gently and making Jean arch into him and tremble. And it wasn’t all serious; Jeremy was very ticklish, and jerked and laughed softly in his arms every so often, and it only made Jean smile and hold him closer. 

Jeremy, in turn, grazed his lips softly over Jean’s lower abdomen and hips, where he was _very_ sensitive, holding him down as he twitched and kissing his thighs in apology. Jean could feel his lips curving into a smile as he did so.

And then Jeremy showed him he really did know his way around. Jean had spent endless hours wondering how he would bring Jeremy, a previously straight boy, around to the idea of touching him - and god, _god_ , Jean wanted to be touched - and then Jeremy had gone and surprised him yet again. He pushed Jean’s underwear down and out of the way, and took him in his hand with inexperienced but firm strokes. He seemed to be approaching the task with the same determination he did a new Exy drill, but for the flush in his cheeks and the darkness of his eyes. He glanced up at Jean every few moments, and his breathing would catch and his colour would deepen. Jean reached out to touch his face, sitting all the way up so he could watch the whole show. When Jeremy bent his head over his cock and took him slowly into his mouth, Jean had to clench the blankets to stop himself from grabbing Jeremy’s hair.

It had never been like this before, not for him. His entire experience of sexual encounters had been mostly pain, some pleasure, and all achieved by grabbing and pushing and force. The Ravens had fucked like they’d played - with no mercy or thought of others. Jean had kind of just assumed it was like that for everyone. 

Jeremy was thoughtful, considerate. He paused to check how Jean was doing - he even _asked_.

‘How does this feel?’ he asked, the question sounding bizarrely out of place in the situation but for his tone, saturated in arousal. ‘You like that?’

Jean could only growl, and nod. Jeremy let him put his hand on the back of his neck, then the grown of his head. He twined his fingers through his hair and fought the urge to push down, instead letting Jeremy find his own pace and pattern. It was good - it was all so good, Jean could hardly see. 

When he could feel himself growing close, he realised he didn’t want it to end yet. Or more specifically, he didn’t want it to end without that same feeling coursing through Jeremy’s body too. Reciprocity was a foreign concept to him during sex, but Jeremy had been schooling him in friendship lessons every day since they’d met. This probably wasn’t the right time to bring it up, but damn, he was a good teacher.

He pulled Jeremy up and dragged him into his lap. Jeremy looked a bit unsure about the situation - he was almost as big as Jean, and, having been only with girls before this, probably wasn’t used to being in this kind of position - but his body went stiff and then gorgeously boneless in Jean’s arms when he started touching him. Jeremy was so honest in his expressions, so vulnerable to Jean’s hands and lips. Jean felt a thrum of power run through his veins as he delighted in the fact that he could _give_ something. That he of all people could make someone feel so shamelessly good. 

Jeremy’s cock was like velvet in his hand. He jerked him quickly, because Jeremy seemed to like it like that. He clutched his shoulders and tensed under his hands, little moans slipping from his lips that Jean savoured greedily. When Jeremy’s hand moved down to stroke him again, they became lost in each other.

Through a hazy, dreamy combination of hands and lips and tongues, they went falling over the edge together. Jean held on to Jeremy and kissed his temple, his cheekbone, his nose; Jeremy buried his face in Jean’s neck and mumbled little things that didn’t make sense except in the way they made Jean’s heart thump even faster. Adrenaline pumped through his body, and Jeremy’s hands dragged sparks wherever he touched him. 

After a very lazy cleanup that involved their guilty use of the undersheet of the other bed, they found their way back into each others arms. Jean was now also learning what it truly meant to “Netflix and chill”, although Jeremy explained that usually the Netflix came first. He fed Jean the grapes they’d ordered from room service; the chocolate was for Jeremy, who was always craving something sweet and had never truly adjusted to the athlete’s strict diet. 

‘Your lack of a sweet tooth is so weird,’ he murmured, sleepy and loose in Jean’s arms. He was lying between his legs against his chest, the bowl of grapes and chocolate on his chest, feeding Jean and himself in sporadic bursts of short-lived energy. The laptop rested on Jean’s legs - they were watching Chocolat again. Jean had hardly focused on a single frame so far, too preoccupied with a very naked Jeremy curled up against him.

‘Why do you like this movie so much?’ Jean asked. He had one arm around Jeremy’s middle, the other idly carding through his hair, scratching gently like he knew Jeremy liked. 

‘Reminds me of you,’ Jeremy yawned. ‘The French, I mean.’

‘Not the content?’

Jeremy smiled. ‘No, but I like that too.’

‘The chocolate or Johnny Depp?’

Jeremy twisted in his arms. ‘Hey, you remembered his name,’ he said, smiling sleepily at him. 

Jean kissed his nose. ‘Enjoy the moment,’ he said. ‘Won’t be happening again.’

They almost made it all the way through, Jean knowing Jeremy well enough to switch it off before it got sad, claiming that he was too tired to sit up anymore. Jeremy happily snuggled down with him, the room comfortably dark thanks to the hotel’s blackout curtains. They whispered to each other for a little while, noses almost touching. Jean was immensely enjoying the way Jeremy’s arm was slung over his middle, idly stroking his back, and how their legs were tangled up together. They were sharing the same pillow, though bed allowed for two. 

‘We should do this more often,’ Jean said, without thinking. 

‘What?’ Jeremy asked. ‘Sleepovers? We share a room, Jean.’

He could hear the teasing in his voice, so he pinched his waist gently and enjoyed the way Jeremy twitched and curled into him a little more in response. 

‘No,’ he said. ‘I mean … this. Together. Like this.’

The room was too dark to see Jeremy properly, even lying nose to nose as they were. 

‘You mean like … be together? The two of us?’

He sounded like he just wanted clarification. Jean couldn’t figure out anything else from his voice. He hesitated, then kissed the corner of his mouth. 

‘We can talk about it in the morning,’ he said, sounding more tired than he really was. 

 

The next time Jean’s eyes opened, the room was lit only by the blue hint of pre-dawn through the curtains. The reason for his wakening was tip-toeing into the room and fumbling at the outlet for the stray iPhone charger neither of them had noticed. Jeremy was still asleep in Jean’s arms, though the noise of the door unlocking from the outside had made him stir a bit and snuggle in closer. Jean closed his eyes again until Connor had left, taking his goddamn room key with him.

A few moments later, Jeremy mumbled ‘Did we just get busted?’

A smile tugged up the corner of Jean’s lips, and he kissed Jeremy’s temple rather than answer. Jeremy groaned and buried his head against Jean’s chest, and Jean laughed in response and got both of his arms tightly around him, kissing his hair. 

‘I’ll text him,’ Jeremy mumbled, wriggling around to presumably look for his phone. ‘I’ll ask him not to say anything.’

‘Don’t bother,’ Jean said, reluctant to relinquish Jeremy’s warm body. He found that he didn’t really care if Connor knew. Or if anyone knew. 

‘But what if he - ‘

‘So what?’

Jeremy paused, blinking up at Jean. He was waking up more now, and looked confused. ‘You don’t care if anyone finds out?’

Looking down at Jeremy, Jean realised he kind of wanted to tell everyone in the world about him. 

‘No,’ he replied. ‘Do you?’

Jeremy appeared to think about. Then he said ‘If … if this is just sex … do you really want to go through all the hassle of telling people? Jean, the press already give you such a hard time …’

‘Is it just sex?’ Jean asked mildly. 

They looked at each other, and then Jeremy slowly shook his head. 

’No,’ Jeremy said quietly. Jean’s heart flipped in his chest at that one word. ‘No - I mean, I don’t want it to just be that. But only if you - ‘

That was all Jean needed to hear. In the quiet of their hotel room, shrouded in what early morning light managed to get through the curtains, Jean kissed Jeremy softly, lips pressing together for the longest time, until they were both sure, completely one hundred per cent certain, that this was not just sex.

‘Do you want to be with me?’ Jeremy asked, lips moving against Jean’s. Jean had lived in America since he was eight years old but he did not think he had the English to tell Jeremy exactly how badly he wanted to be with him. So instead, Jean pressed his reply to Jeremy’s mouth, his cheeks, his neck. He whispered it in his ear as he reached down between his legs and stroked him, coaxing whimpers and little gasps out of his mouth that he eagerly swallowed. 

‘Yes,’ Jean breathed, as Jeremy shuddered in his arms, clutching him desperately and moaning into his mouth. ‘Yes. With you, always.’

 

After three weeks of waiting for the explosion, Jean finally stopped thinking that Connor had said anything. He hadn’t started acting any differently towards either of them, even though Jeremy had said, twice, in his soft and understanding voice, that if there was anything Connor wanted to talk about, he shouldn’t feel like he couldn’t still talk to Jeremy. Which was Jeremy’s subtle way of saying not to be afraid of Jean cracking skulls if Connor dropped the bomb. But Connor had only shrugged him off and said ‘Nope, nothing’s up boss.’

“Boss” was the Trojan’s affection inner nickname for Jeremy, a way of teasing him lightly for his absolute refusal to push any of them around or pull rank. The team respected him for it, and Jeremy never had to raise his voice in anger or threaten anyone into following him. One of Jean’s true pleasures in life - and he had very few of them - was watching Jeremy guide and lead his team with grace and a firm hand, and they in return putting in 110% just for him. He was popular without meaning to be, and gave every single team member his full attention when they asked for it. And somehow, despite seniority and his position, he still managed to be just one of the guys without even trying. Jean felt like a thistle in a field of poppies next to his teammates, but whenever Jeremy spoke to him or included him as part of some joke or anecdote, he felt himself bloom at last. 

Being so popular, Jeremy was in high demand by more than just the team. Often Jean would just leave them to it, taking himself off to study somewhere he could practise being alone without losing his mind. It helped when he had homework. It also helped that he could focus on the homework and not worry about who was waiting back at his room to terrorise him.  

 Normally Jean wouldn’t have taken any of the Trojan’s calls - except Jeremy’s - while he was studying. He was easily distracted from it enough as it was, and he was actually trying very hard to get his GPA back up, even though he knew his future could never involve anything but Exy.

 He only answered Connor’s because he was on a smoke break. And because it was his fifteenth in a row. 

‘What?’

‘You have to come to the dorms, now.’ Connor’s voice was more serious than Jean had expected. ‘Jeremy’s sick, I think.’

Jean stood up straight, flicking his half smoked cigarette away. ‘What do you mean, you _think_?’

Connor sighed, and Jean heard a door closing. ‘I mean he’s running a super high temperature and he’s delirious, but he won’t let us get near him. He thinks we’re trying to play a game with him or something. He’s locked himself in the bathroom - ‘

‘Fuck,’ Jean said. ‘I’ve got his car. I’ll - I’ll be there in ten minutes.’

‘Ok,’ Connor said, sounding worried. ‘Please hurry. We called Coach but he and Danny are upstate at a conference - I just know you and Jeremy are, like, close, or whatever, so I - ’

‘Five minutes,’ Jean growled, and hung up.

He broke the speed limit to get back to the dorms, and found Connor, Laila, Alvarez, Scott, and Tori all huddled around Connor’s bathroom door. His other roommates, along with two other people Jean didn’t know, were standing in the kitchen looking concerned. Everyone went quiet when Jean arrived, and he waved them all away from the door impatiently.

‘Jeremy?’ he called, raising his voice. ‘Are you alright.’

‘Jean?’ Jeremy’s voice was slightly muffled, and sounded like weirdly slowed down. ‘You’re supposed to be at the library.’

‘I was,’ Jean said, leaning against the door. ‘Until I heard you were being an idiot.’

‘Am not. Who told you that? I’m _fine_.’ He started laughing - it was too high, almost manic. 

‘Let me in,’ Jean insisted, worry turning his feet and hands to ice. 

There was a pause, and Jean knocked on the door again. ‘Jeremy?’

‘I - I would love to let you in,’ Jeremy said, sounding far away. ‘There are things in here. I don’t know - where’s the door? Oh man, my stomach hurts.’

‘Jesus Christ,’ muttered Jean, pulling back before raising his voice again. ‘Jeremy, I’m gonna break down the door. Last chance to open it yourself.’ 

‘I can’t reach,’ Jeremy said - he didn’t even sound like himself now. Jean turned around and threw Jeremy’s keys to Connor, who was looking at him with wide eyes. 

‘Start the car,’ Jean told him, before turning back to the door. ‘Jeremy?’

‘I almost got it,’ Jeremy mumbled. ‘It’s so hard to - when there are so many - ‘ He groaned a little, and then the lock snapped open.

It was hard to get the door open when Jeremy was collapsed on the tiles on the other side. His skin was red and almost too hot to touch, and so dry. The sweat had burned right off him. Jeremy got his jeans and sweater off him, abandoning them on the floor, and he and Alvarez linked him out and down to the car, Laila following with Jeremy’s phone and a blanket off the back of the couch.

He was definitely delirious, and moaning in pain at every touch of their skin on his. The drive to the hospital was not fast enough; he kept snapping at Connor in French every time he braked for any reason. Jeremy was huddled on the other side of the car, trying to press his burning arms and forehead to the cold of the window.

‘Still awake, Jeremy?’ Jean kept asking. He was in the middle, and was so focused on Jeremy he didn’t even mind Laila on his other side, peering anxiously over his shoulder. 

The first man in scrubs they saw took one look at Jeremy and ran for a trolley. They couldn’t tell him much - no, Jeremy wasn’t allergic to penicillin, no he wasn’t on any medication, no he hadn’t taken any drugs. Laila was calling their second coach, and Connor and Alvarez were theorising what might be wrong in hushed, worried tones, but all Jean could do was focus on the door through which Jeremy had been taken, skin red and chest working so hard to breathe, still looking around, dazed, for Jean.

 

No one had come out to see them by the time their second coach, Luna, arrived. 

‘Eric and Danny are on their way,’ she said, naming their Coach and team doctor. She had instantly taken control of the situation, her hair pulled back into a ponytail and managing to look in charge despite her sweatpants and X-Files t-shirt. ‘Someone start talking.’

Between Connor and Laila they got the whole story out; Jeremy had been feeling off all day, complaining briefly of a pain in his stomach but mostly just sitting quietly and not talking as much as normal. He’d started acting up shortly before they called Jean, saying weird things and not making any sense. Then Laila had brushed against his arm and felt his temperature, but once Jeremy had copped their attention he thought they were playing some sort of game with him, culminating with him hiding in the bathroom. Jean hated that he had nothing to contribute, since he hadn’t been there. 

‘Hallucinating, Jesus.’ Luna muttered. ‘Right, I’m going to get some information.’

Five foot three she may have been, but Luna came back with a harried looking nurse about ten minutes later. 

‘We believe Jeremy has a blood infection,’ the nurse said, looking at them all. ‘Without a complete medical history we can’t be sure - ‘

‘That’s being faxed over,’ Luna interrupted. 

‘Right,’ said the nurse. ‘We’re doing tests to confirm, but we’ve managed to bring his temperature down for now. His body is stressed, and his heart rate is quite high, so we’re trying to keep him calm, but he’s not fully conscious. It would help if one of you - _just_ one - could come in and sit _very_ quietly with him while we draw blood and run a few other tests. He needs to keep his heart rate and blood pressure down.’

Suddenly everyone was looking at Jean.

‘Looks like you’ve been nominated,’ Luna said, giving him a meaningful look.

‘Follow me,’ said the nurse. 

Jeremy was in a room by himself wearing only a paper-thin hospital gown and surrounded by machines. He had an IV line in his hand attached to a bag of fluids, and two cold packs on his chest and legs. There were a bunch of wet ones discarded in a bin at the foot of the bed. His skin was more or less his usual colour now, but he was wearing an oxygen mask and had wires attached to his chest to monitor his heart rate and blood pressure. It wasn’t Jean’s first time in a hospital room, but so far it was definitely his worst experience. 

Another nurse followed him in, pushing a small trolley. ‘What do you want me to do?’ he asked him, voice tight.

The nurse crossed to the bed to read the monitors. ‘Just sit beside him,’ he said, indicating the chair. ‘Hold his hand if that’s something you two do. Talk to him.’

Jean took a seat, pulling the chair forward towards the bed. Slowly he reached out and took Jeremy’s hand - the one without the IV. Here in the relative quiet of the hospital room, Jean felt his fear finally settle in deep, right into his bones. He tried to stop his lip from trembling as he said ‘Jeremy.’

Jean wasn’t sure if he reacted to the touch or his voice, but Jeremy instantly opened his eyes and turned his head. His gaze was unfocused but Jean saw his lips curve up under the oxygen mask.

‘Don’t even try talking,’ Jean said sternly, rubbing his thumb over the back of Jeremy’s warm hand. ‘You’ve been an idiot. I’m very annoyed.’

Jeremy’s smile was wider - and slightly delirious. Jean listened intently for his heart rate, glancing up at the monitors as if he could read something from them. 

‘Heart rate is normal for his condition,’ the nurse said calmly, preparing the vials. ‘Just keep talking to him.’

‘Well, you certainly _look_ better,’ Jean said. ‘You looked like a lobster earlier. Not your best look. I’m still partial to you, though, so you have carte blanche to look however the fuck you want with me.’ He used the expression deliberately, because he knew how Jeremy liked the sound of it in his accent.

He leaned closer, folding his arms on the bed and putting his head on them so it was almost level with Jeremy’s. He was still holding his hand, the back of it brushing his cheek, his thumb caressing Jeremy’s soft palm.

‘You’re going to be fine,’ he said quietly, smiling a little. ‘I’ll take you for ice cream when they let you out. Why haven’t I taken you out before? Like on a date … Would you like that?’

Jeremy nodded slowly, eyes fixed on Jean even as his eyelids were drooping. 

‘Good, Jean,’ the nurse murmured, capping vials of blood Jean hadn’t even noticed him taking. ‘You’re doing real good.’

‘His eyes are closing,’ Jean said, glancing up. The nurse nodded, labelling the vials. 

‘That’s alright,’ he said. ‘All his vitals are good now, and he’s exhausted from the fever.’ When Jean looked back, Jeremy was asleep.

‘Can I stay with him?’ Jean said quietly. The nurse nodding, patting his shoulder gently as he passed.

Despite his muscle tone and broad shoulders, Jeremy looked positively slight lying in the bed all hooked up to machines, his face dominated by the oxygen mask. Jean spent the first half hour obsessively watching and listening to the machines and their beeping patterns, then relaxed slightly when they continued to hold steady. Instead he focused on Jeremy’s face, tracing every line of it. He’d never drawn a thing in his life besides bored doodles in class but suddenly Jean wanted to draw the curve of Jeremy’s lip, the angle of his jaw, to shade his dark eyelashes and the dusting of light freckles over his nose and cheekbones. Jean had never taken him on a date. They’d been official - between themselves anyway - for three weeks, and Jean still hadn’t taken him out? It should have been the first thing he’d done when they got back from Washington. What had he been thinking today, spending the whole day in the library for some shitty physics exam? He hadn’t even met Jeremy for lunch. 

The nurse let Coach in about an hour later. Danny, their team doctor, stayed outside talking to the nurse in lowered tones. Jean eyed Coach as he stood at the end of the bed, staring at Jeremy with an odd expression.

‘Nurse filled me in,’ he said, in his usual abrupt manner. Jean nodded, turning back to Jeremy. He’d adjusted only so Jeremy’s arm was lying flat instead of raised, but he was still holding his hand. 

‘He’s normally tough as nails,’ Coach muttered. Jean looked back up at him, surprised. ‘A real little trooper, you know? Never complains … I have to remind myself that he’s really just a kid - you’re all just kids.’

Jean didn’t feel like a kid. He felt old, and tired. 

‘The doctors think it’s a kidney infection,’ Coach said. ‘They’re starting him on antibiotics. He’ll have to stay overnight, possibly two nights.’

Jean didn’t say anything. 

‘I’m sending the team home,’ Coach added. ‘I’m supposed to send you home too.’

Jean rolled his eyes towards him in warning. Coach’s lips twitched. 

‘Yeah, that’s what I thought. Well, you can’t do anything else for him here. He’ll sleep the rest of the night, and you have practise in the morning.’ He paused. ‘You never seem to react how you should. Or how the others do.’

Maybe it was the vulnerability of the moment between the two of them as Jeremy lay unconscious on the hospital bed that prompted his sudden honesty.

‘I’ve never been allowed to miss an Exy practise in my entire life,’ Jean said dully. ‘Even with a handful of broken fingers. There’s no reason the universe shold start going easy on me now.’

Coach eyed him. ‘Seems like the universe is already cutting you a break,’ he said, nodding at where their hands were still linked. Jean looked down too, and felt a little tug on his heart. 

‘ So ... he’s going to be ok?’ he asked quietly. Coach put a hand gently on his shoulder and squeezed.

‘Seems so,’ he said. ‘He’ll be back dragging your asses around the court in a few days time.’

Jean left Jeremy’s phone on the bedside locker and took one last look at him. He’d have to sleep in the dorm alone tonight. But then, Jeremy would be alone too. Leaving him felt profoundly wrong.

A full two days passed before Jeremy was discharged. Coach disappeared halfway through practise, and Jean got shouted at more than once for getting distracted and looking off towards the court doors. Coach promised he’d bring Jeremy by for the end of practise before banishing him to bed - he was under strict orders to rest for a full week before picking up a racquet. It wasn’t a disaster for their season, as their next game was their last before the knockout stages, and they were already through on points, but it wasn’t doing much for morale. Jean, in particular, was feeling very out of sorts. They’d been texting a lot, but visiting hours clashed with practise and Jeremy had told them all to let him rest and focus on getting ready for midterms and their game at the weekend. It had been pretty fucking shit without him, especially at night.

Jean pushed Scott off the ball once again, and growled at him as he got to his feet. Scott was their third dealer, nowhere near as good as Jeremy or Tori, and Jean was sick of him. Scott grumbled as he got to his feet, something like ‘The sooner Jeremy gets back’, and Jean flipped. 

‘What was that?’ he snapped, grabbing Scott by the collar. ‘You want Jeremy back? Your game is shit -‘ He shook Scott, hard - ‘Don’t you dare -you think he wouldn’t push you off the ball too?’

Scott’s feet were almost dangling off the ground and Luna was blowing her whistle, but Jean only looked up when he heard banging on the court walls. He looked over to see Jeremy, wearing his faded red Trojan hoody, raising his arms in exasperation and mouthing ‘Put him down!’

Jean grinned and dutifully dropped Scott, hard. 

‘Ow,’ complained Scott. 

‘Get over it,’ muttered Jean, taking off his helmet as the others on the court rushed the door. It was only a small scrimmage between the first team and the third team; the second team were sitting out, watching them play and taking notes. By the time Jean got there Jeremy was already mobbed, but in that polite Trojan way in that they weren’t actually crowding him, but standing back and smiling and letting Jeremy’s closest friends in first. 

‘I’m fine,’ Jeremy was saying, of course, hugging Laila. ‘Seriously. I mean, I feel like roadkill but it’s my own damn fault - I’m really sorry for not saying I felt sick sooner - Connor, man, I’m sorry - ‘

‘Dude, no big,’ Connor said, waving him away with a grin as he took a swig of water. ‘It was only marginally worse than you when you’re hammered.’

‘We wouldn’t have gotten you out without Jean,’ Laila pointed out, tugging on Jeremy’s elbow gently. Their eyes met, and Jeremy’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. 

‘So I hear,’ he said, and his voice was so unbearably fond that Jean’s breath caught in his chest. Suddenly he forgot that everyone was watching them, with some of the usual suspects grinning as they caught on to what they must have already suspected. Connor was backing away like he didn’t have a clue, but Laila was practically holding Alvarez down as she finally put it together. 

‘Right!’ Coach said loudly, clapping his hands and making everyone jump. ‘I believe there’s still a practise happening here? Everyone on the court - except you two,’ he added quietly to Jean and Jeremy with a small smile. ‘Moreau - five minutes.’

Jean didn’t even wait for everyone else to disappear. He was fairly sure there were still eyes on them as Jeremy leaned into him, but he couldn’t devote even an iota of attention to them because suddenly hugging Jeremy was the most important thing in the world. He felt smaller, somehow - three days of a liquid diet, Jean supposed. 

They stood like that for a long minute, breathing in deeply and rubbing each others backs. Jean felt all the crap from the last few days just dissolve away - how was it possible that Jeremy, even though he was recovering from something serious, could provide him with so much strength? He leaned heavily on Jean, nose pressed into his neck, and Jean would happily have let him lean on him forever. 

‘I missed this,’ Jeremy murmured. ‘So much. 

‘Me too,’ Jean replied. Jeremy smelled like disinfectant but his hoody still retained all the good Jeremy-ness that was so heart-achingly familiar to him by now, and he breathed it in deep.

‘You still taking me out for ice cream?’ Jeremy asked.

Jean frowned, then smiled when he remembered. ‘You’re out of the hospital two minutes and you’re already asking for treats? How entitled of you.’

‘Ok,’ said Jeremy. ‘But. What if I did this.’ He pulled back and then leaned in to kiss Jean softly, one hand sliding up through his hair, the other on the small of his back. Jean kissed him back, their bodies melting against each other. They pressed their lips together again and again, little soft touches that sought to erase all the worry and stress of the last few days. 

‘Better than a blood transfusion,’ Jeremy sighed when they broke apart, brushing his nose against Jean’s, who laughed. ‘It’s what my grandma used to say,’ Jeremy added, smiling at his reaction. Now that they weren’t kissing, it was getting difficult to ignore their teammates yelling at them and banging on the court wall. 

‘Do you hear something?’ Jean asked.

‘Not a thing,’ Jeremy smiled.

‘Alright,’ grumbled Coach, climbing down the steps towards them. ‘Come on, you’re getting them all riled up in there.’

Jeremy rested his head on Jean’s shoulder. ‘It’s good for them,’ Jean said, putting a hand on the back of Jeremy’s neck, knowing that he was unused to public displays of affection and was probably embarrassed now with Coach there. ‘They’re slow today.’

‘Well how about you get out there and start chasing them,’ Coach said, looking amused. ‘Come on Jeremy, you’ve got your own orders, and homework to catch up on.’

‘Can’t wait, Coach,’ Jeremy mumbled. 

‘My car in sixty seconds,’ Coach warned, pointing at the two of them before heading for the door.

Jeremy looked up as soon as he was gone and kissed Jean again. ‘I don’t want to be that guy and say “hurry home”, but - ’

Jean silenced him with a kiss before pushing him gently towards the door. Jeremy smiled at him - god, he was beautiful - and said ‘Don’t hurt them, ok?’

Jean grinned and winked in a sudden rush of levity. ‘Are they running yet?’ he asked, before turning to grab his helmet and racquet. 

‘I don’t get it,’ Tori complained, as they all limped off the court later. ‘You were missing Jeremy, fine, I get that, you’re allowed to be aggressive. But like - ‘ she gestured towards Jean in confusion. ‘You like, _made out with him_ , and then hopped on the court and fucking terrorised us for ninety minutes. How does that work?’

‘Love works in mysterious ways,’ Connor said darkly, ducking reflexively as Jean took a swipe at him. He wasn’t mad, though. They weren’t even wrong. He was feeling good.

‘Stop complaining,’ he told Tori. ‘I was only doing what I was told.’

’Jeremy told you to beat us up?’ Tori asked in disbelief.

‘No,’ said Coach, coming up behind them. ‘I did. You were all slow as a wet week out there. Jean,’ he added. ‘Good practise. Still feels a bit homicidal, but I’m starting to think that’s just part of your game.’

‘Well now that Coach is condoning it, we’re all dead,’ Alvarez commented lightly, bumping shoulders with Laila. 

‘Murder’s what’s gonna get you to the finals this year,’ Jean pointed out, shrugging. ‘Tell me you won’t run faster tomorrow?’

No one argued with him, either through exhaustion or fear. Jean was actually satisfied. 

They moved slowly in the locker room, bodies bruised and struggling. As Jean was towelling his hair dry, Alvarez barged in. The other boys yelped and threw towels over themselves, then relaxed once they saw who it was.

‘I gotta know,’ she demanded, pointing at Jean. ‘How the fuck long have you two been sneaking around, and how did you keep it a fucking secret?’

‘Babe,’ Laila said calmly, from outside. ‘Please.’

‘No, fuck this, I need to know,’ Alvarez insisted. ‘I missed them going from zero to one hundred and we live two fucking doors down! You’re his co-captain, Laila, I’m his best friend!’

Jean could only shrug. ‘I don’t know,’ he answered, feeling surprisingly light. He’d never been private like that - there was no point trying it at Evermore - but this wasn’t something he’d ever discussed aloud before. ‘Three weeks properly, I suppose. Before that …’ He shrugged. ‘A few months?’

‘A few months?’ Tariq asked in disbelief. ‘Seriously?’

‘Can you close the door?’ Connor complained, trying to get his jeans on under his towel. ‘There’s a draft, Alvarez.’

‘And are you like, official?’ Alvarez pressed. ‘Like, are you together or just fucking?’

Jean frowned at her phrasing.‘We’re together,’ he said, a little defensively. Even though they’d only clarified this recently, he felt mildly offended at her referring to any stage of their relationship as “just fucking”. 

He expected more teasing, but Alvarez put her hand over her mouth. 

‘Oh god, I’m gonna cry,’ she mumbled. ‘My baby Jeremy.’ Laila laughed behind her and put her arms around her waist. ‘How could he keep this from _me_?’

Jean shrugged. ‘We were kind of hoping Connor would just pass it along,’ he admitted, and everyone’s gaze zoomed to Connor, who almost dropped his towel.

‘What?’ he demanded.

‘You _knew_?’ Alvarez growled. ‘You kept this to yourself?’

‘Yes,’ said Connor indignantly. ‘I’m a bro, man. I’m no grass. And in my defence, I thought they were just fucking.’

Jean made a face. ‘That wasn’t what you saw,’ he said over his shoulder as he threw his towel in his locker. 

‘Listen,’ Connor said defensively, as everyone in the room started throwing towels at him. ‘I walked in on them in bed, like, _once_ , in Washington. Because we’d swapped rooms.’ He paused. ‘Ok, in retrospect I should have copped that one sooner. They weren’t _doing_ anything, though.’

‘Were they spooning?’ Laila asked delightedly, her chin resting on Alvarez’s shoulder.

‘No,’ Connor said. ’It was like - wait, Tariq, man, come here.’ He proceeded to demonstrate on Tariq exactly how Jean and Jeremy had been sleeping, until Jean threw his own towel at him. Alvarez, who had buried her face in her hands, had to be lifted gently from the room by Laila. 

Jean dug his phone out of his pocket, ignoring the ruckus behind him. ’ _Bringing home ice cream xx’_

His phone buzzed a few moments later.

\- ‘ _I LOVE you xoxoxo’_

He smiled to himself all the way outside until Jeremy sent a clarification:

_\- I mean, like, in a friend way_

_\- That doesn’t sound like sleeping OR studying_

_\- Are you home yet???_

_\- Soon <3_

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr](http://thetrojeans.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](http://twitter.com/lazarusthefirst/)


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